The Inferno

by Dante

  The poet’s honorific feelings toward Brunetto are perhaps mirrored in the word his name rhymes with: “intelletto.” And his answering gesture, to move his face down toward his “teacher,” certainly does so as well. (The Petrocchi text here offers what is surely an implausible reading: “la mano alla sua faccia” (which we have translated as it stands). It seems nearly certain that the text should read, as it does in many manuscripts, “la mia alla sua faccia,” i.e., Dante bent his face toward Brunetto’s in an act of homage. This better reading is confirmed by the later verse (v. 44) that has Dante walking with his head still bent down in reverence (see note to v. 50). [return to English / Italian]

  48. A number of commentaries on this passage cite Aeneid VI.531–534, Deiphobus’s similar questions to Aeneas.

  It is striking that Brunetto never discovers the identity of Dante’s leader (nor did Cavalcante in Inf. X). Like Cavalcante’s son Guido’s, Brunetto’s body of work is notably unmarked by Virgil’s influence. The omission, in other words, may be entirely intentional. [return to English / Italian]

  50. Dante’s reflection upon his own lostness at the outset (Inf. I.3, I.14) picks up, as a few commentators have sensed (Pietrobono perhaps the first), a similar passage in Brunetto’s Tesoretto, vv. 186–90:

  e io, in tal corrotto

  pensando a capo chino,

  perdei il gran cammino,

  e tenni a la traversa

  d’una selva diversa.

  (And I, in such great vexation, my head bowed down, lost the main road and came upon a path that crossed a strange wood.)

  The phrase a capo chino (my head bowed down) has perhaps been borrowed to describe Dante’s reverence before Brunetto (v. 44—see note to vv. 28–30). [return to English / Italian]

  54. Dante had criticized Brunetto’s (along with other Tuscan poets’) Italian poetry for its low dialectism in De vulgari eloquentia (I.xiii.1); now he himself uses a Tuscan dialectical form (ca, for casa, “house” or “home”) as though in apology; and he uses it to express the high and ultimate purpose of his journey, his return to the God who made him. It is a moment of stunning force. [return to English / Italian]

  55. Dante’s “star” is probably his natal sign, Gemini. Brunetto here and elsewhere sees Dante’s special status as related to the influence of the heavens rather than to the election of Heaven. [return to English / Italian]

  58–60. Brunetto’s desire to aid Dante in his current and future plight, given the context of the discussion that follows, would seem rather to refer to his political life than to his literary one, though it is difficult to separate the two. [return to English / Italian]

  61–78. Brunetto, like Farinata (Inf. X.79–81), prophesies Dante’s exile. His sense of the history of Florence (perhaps reflecting his own treatment of this subject in the first book of his Tresor) puts forward the legend that Florence was populated by the Romans after they destroyed neighboring Fiesole in order to put an end to Catiline’s conspiracy. Unfortunately, their descendants, the Florentine nobility, allowed the surviving Fiesolans to emigrate and mix their base population with the Roman stock. For Dante, all the city’s (and his own) troubles stem from this original mistake. [return to English / Italian]

  83–85. Dante pays his debt to Brunetto. But what was it that Brunetto (or, more likely, his writings) taught Dante about immortality? Brunetto himself (Tresor II.cxx.1) says that fame for good works gives one a second life on earth. Surely that is not enough for the Christian Dante, who knows the true meaning of immortality. The only seconde vie that matters is in the afterlife. Is Dante saying that Brunetto taught him this? That seems impossible. But he did learn from him how his earthly fame might be established by writing a narrative poem in Italian. And his heavenly reward might be combined with that one if his poem were, unlike Brunetto’s work, dedicated to a higher purpose. Perhaps one of the earliest commentators said this best: Brunetto gave Dante “the knowledge that does not allow him to die either in his essential being in the other world, nor with respect to fame in this one” (Jacopo della Lana). For the work of Brunetto that had such effect on Dante see the note to v. 119. [return to English / Italian]

  88–90. The protagonist, responding to Brunetto’s warning that his good deeds will not go unpunished (vv. 61–64), adverts to Farinata’s similar prophecy and Virgil’s promise of Beatrice’s eventual explanation of it. See note to Inf. X.130–132. [return to English / Italian]

  91–94. Dante claims that he is ready for Fortune’s adversity. See the similar but stronger utterance at Paradiso XVII.22–24. [return to English / Italian]

  95–96. For a reading of the “peasant” that is based in the representation of Saturn as an old and tired farmer, carrying a spade or mattock, and thus keyed to the allegorical understanding of Saturn as time, see Iannucci (Iann.1982.1). The phrase would then mean: “let Fortune turn her wheel as she pleases and let time continue its relentless course” (p. 6). [return to English / Italian]

  99. This is Virgil’s only utterance in the canto. (Walking ahead of Dante, accompanied by Brunetto, who is moving close to the bank, along the sand, Virgil is not “in the frame” for most of the scene.) How we should read the remark is no longer as clear as it once seemed. Is it congratulatory or monitory? All the early commentators who deal with it think it is the latter, i.e., Dante has just uttered a truthful wish (vv. 91–96), but one difficult to live up to. And that seems the most likely reading. [return to English / Italian]

  106–114. Brunetto indicates that all his companions were men of letters, identifying Priscian (the great Latin grammarian of the early sixth century); Francesco d’Accorso (1225–93), a renowned jurist of Bologna; and Andrea de’ Mozzi (died 1296). A Florentine, he was made bishop of Florence (on the Arno) in 1287 until he was transferred to Vicenza (on the Bacchiglione) by Pope Boniface VIII (here ironically referred to with the papal formula “servant of servants”) in 1295 for his riotous habits. None of these (neither is Brunetto) is recorded by other writers as having been homosexual. The last verse, indicating Andrea’s “sin-stretched sinews” would, however, seem to indicate his sexual activity (and the meaning of this line is thus hotly contested by those who deny that homosexuality is punished in this ring—see the endnote to the next canto). [return to English / Italian]

  118. What is the division that separates these two groups of homosexuals? We should note that Brunetto, accompanying Dante, has gone lower down the sloping sand than he generally does; his group apparently remains higher up. The only clue given us by the text is that his fellows are all men of letters, while the next group will be made up of politicians (but then Brunetto must be considered, at least to some degree, a “politician” himself). Is that what keeps them separate? It does not seem likely. It would rather seem that the two groups are kept separate by their particular form of sexual deviance, as Boccaccio appears to suggest. [return to English / Italian]

  119. It has long been assumed that Brunetto asks Dante’s affectionate remembrance of his Tresor. In the opinion of some, however, it is far better to understand that the work in question is the Tesoretto. To suggest as much is not to deny the importance of the French encyclopedic treatise for Dante, who knew it well and whose memory is suffused by it. However, given his predilection for poetry, it seems likely that for him the pivotal work was the Tesoretto because it was his first Italian model for the Comedy. It is fairly clear why nearly all the commentators think that Dante is referring to the Tresor: It is a major work, at least by comparison to the unfinished Tesoretto, and people do not especially appreciate the poetry of Brunetto (perhaps with good reason). But why would Dante not be giving credit to the work which made a difference to him as poet? That seems a sensible view of the matter. However, it was only in the eighteenth century that a commentator (Lombardi) would suggest this possibility, and only in the nineteenth that one would seize upon it (Gregorio Di Siena). An as yet unpublished book on Dante and Brunetto by Frank Ordiway extends the evidence offered by Mazzoni (Mazz.
1967.3) of Dante’s considerable citation of the Tesoretto into a strong argument for the reference to the Italian work in this line. For bibliography of those who have argued for the Tesoretto see Holl.1992.2, n. 82.

  The text of the Tesoretto itself offers evidence that it is the work we should think of here:

  Io, Burnetto Latino,

  che vostro in ogni guisa

  mi son sanza divisa,

  a voi mi racomando.

  Poi vi presento e mando

  questo ricco Tesoro,

  che vale argento ed oro:…

  (vv. 70–76; italics added)

  (I, Brunetto Latini, who am yours in every way,

  without any reservation commend myself to you.

  Then I present and send to you this rich

  Treasure, which is worth silver and gold.)

  Within the text of what we call the Tesoretto we find that its own title for itself is Tesoro (and this will occur twice more in the work). And we can hear, in Dante’s verse 119, another echo of the Italian work, the verb raccomandare. It seems difficult to go on believing that the Tresor is on our poet’s mind at this crucial juncture of his presentation of his literary “father,” his final words in Dante’s poem. [return to English / Italian]

  121–124. The canto concludes with a simile that perfectly expresses Dante’s ambivalent feelings about Brunetto. He looks every bit the winner—but he is in last place. In the actual race run outside Verona, the runners ran naked, according to the early commentators; the winner received a piece of green cloth, while the one who finished last was given a rooster, which he had to carry back into the city with him as a sign of his disgrace and a cause of derisive taunts on the part of his townsmen. The case can be made that Dante treats Brunetto in exactly both these ways.

  Two biblical texts are of interest here: “The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong” (Eccles. 9:11); “Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receives the prize?” (I Cor. 9:24). [return to English / Italian]

  INFERNO XVI

  1–3. The opening allusion to the noise of falling water is repeated, once the encounter with the three Florentines is complete, at vv. 92–93. [return to English / Italian]

  15–18. Everything that we learn about these sinners seconds Virgil’s positive opinion of them. And in Inferno VI.79–82 we read that Dante was particularly interested in meeting Iacopo and Tegghiaio (along with Farinata, Mosca, and the mysterious Arrigo), Florentines who had labored to do good for the city. Again we face a situation in which the sinner seems, apart from his sin, a thoroughly admirable person, and indeed capable of performing good deeds. See also Ciacco in Inferno VI. [return to English / Italian]

  19–27. The three sinners who have recognized Dante as Florentine from his clothing continue their lamentation, but now form themselves into a wheeling circle so that they may remain in motion (in accord with their penalty) while also staying in one place, like joggers at a stoplight. Thus while their feet move in one direction, their heads move in an opposite one, so that their glances may stay fixed on Dante.

  There is some discussion in the commentaries as to whether Dante refers to classical wrestling, as presented in Latin epics such as Virgil’s and Lucan’s, or to a contemporary version of the sport, or, indeed, to both. [return to English / Italian]

  28–42. The first-named of three Florentines is Guido Guerra (a member of the family of the Conti Guidi, one of the most powerful in northern Italy); born ca. 1220, grandson of Guido Guerra IV and Gualdrada de’ Ravignani, he was a notably successful Guelph political leader, leading them back from exile after the battle of Montaperti (1260) to their crushing defeat of the Ghibellines at Benevento (1266) and their restoration to power in the city; he died in 1272. The second is Tegghiaio Aldobrandi, of the noble Adimari family, contemporary and ally of Guido Guerra in the Guelph cause; along with Guido he counseled the Florentines not to engage in the expedition against Siena that ended in the disastrous defeat at Montaperti. The speaker is Iacopo Rusticucci, also a Guelph, but not, like the two he names, of noble rank (at least according to the Anonimo Fiorentino’s commentary to this passage). His house and that of his neighbor, Tegghiaio, were destroyed in the aftermath of Montaperti. In the eyes of most readers, Iacopo blames his unwilling wife for his turning to homosexuality. But now see Chiamenti (Chia.1998.1), who argues that the adjective fiera (bestial) used of her rather suggests her bestial pleasure in having anal intercourse with her husband, a form of sexual practice indeed considered sodomitic. [return to English / Italian]

  46–51. Dante’s journey through hell produces no scene in which he is as cordial to a group of sinners as this one (see Holl.1996.1). That his affection is directed toward homosexuals is noteworthy, but does not necessarily involve him in anything more than what a modern reader must consider a remarkable lack of the typical Christian heterosexual scorn for homosexuals. The conversation here, like that with Ciacco, is devoted not to the sin of which these men were guilty, but to their political concerns for Florence, which Dante shares enthusiastically. These men are “good Guelphs,” as Farinata was a “good Ghibelline,” leaders who put true concerns for the city over those of party, as Dante surely believed he himself did. [return to English / Italian]

  58–63. Dante identifies himself, out of modesty we presume, as a fellow Florentine, but not by name. His heavenly destination is enough by way of reward to let him wish to remain modestly anonymous. His reference to the good “deeds” (ovra) of these souls joins, in a series of moments with positive things to say about some of Florence’s citizens, with Brunetto’s reference (Inf. XV.60) to Dante’s own political work (opera) on behalf of Florence, and to the passage that initiated these concerns, with specific reference to Guido Guerra and Iacopo Rusticucci (Inf. VI. 79–81), when Dante spoke with Ciacco of the good deeds of some of Florence’s citizens. [return to English / Italian]

  64–72. Iacopo’s question offers Dante an opportunity to stage one of his frequent invectives against human depravity, especially of the Florentine sort. Guglielmo Borsiere, only recently arrived at this station, has been telling his fellows that the “good old days” are so no longer (while we have a secure date of death only for Guido Guerra [1272], we imagine that his other two companions also have been in hell for a quarter century or so: Florence is much changed). Guglielmo, of whom we know little, was, as his last name informs us, probably a pursemaker. Courtesy (in the sense of decency toward one’s fellows but more in the wider sense of a whole courtly code of living) and valor (in the sense of showing attention to the worth of things by one’s own conduct) are thus societal values reflected in individual behavior. Find them in Florence today? Dante’s answer will be firmly negative. [return to English / Italian]

  73–75. The “new rich,” having moved in from the surrounding countryside, are without any valor and courtesy, and already the civic price is being paid. Dante’s brief but strongly phrased remark is filled with personal—and bitter—experience. We should probably remember the earlier denunciation of the original Fiesolan “barbarian” incursions into pure “Roman” Florence (Inf. XV.61–78). This moment of rhetorical elevation marks the only place that the name of the city about which the canto is so largely concerned is allowed to appear. [return to English / Italian]

  76. Dante approximates the gesture of an Old Testament prophet, calling for divine retribution, raising his eyes and voice rather to heaven than, as some commentators propose, to Florence. [return to English / Italian]

  82–85. Like Ciacco (Inf. VI.88) and few others in hell, these men have the confidence in the force of the good that they did on earth to want to be remembered above, even though they are condemned to eternal punishment.

  This is the only time in hell that several sinners speak harmoniously as one. And what is also notable is their reference to the stars that shine over earth now, the last reference to them until we come to the concluding line of the cantica (Inf. XXXIV.139), when Dante and Virgil see the
m once again.

  Beginning with Daniello (who borrowed the notice from his teacher, Trifon Gabriele [Gabr.1993.1]), commentators have remarked on the similarity of the sentiments expressed in their words “when you shall rejoice in saying ‘I was there’ ” to Aeneas’s words to his storm-tossed men (Aen. I.203): “forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit” (perhaps one day it will be a joy to recall even such events as these). [return to English / Italian]

  88–89. When this group hurries off to rejoin their fellows (as did Brunetto his), the poet describes their flight as taking no more time than it takes to say “Amen.” The detail also probably implies, as it were, an illicit prayer for them on Dante’s part, as though the protagonist, in response to their kind words, accepted their prayer for his return to the world, and would like to offer one for them in return. In a sense, the poet’s positive treatment of them in this canto is the fulfillment of that wish. [return to English / Italian]